Betrayal at Cleeve Abbey

by Anita Davison

  She didn’t recognize her, but then she hadn’t been to the Abbey for a year, so there could be any number of new people in the area. Amy for instance or even Mrs Mountjoy, though the figure didn’t look like either of them. Was she merely taking a walk in the lanes, or deliberately trying to be seen? Perhaps she didn’t even know Flora and Bunny were there?

  ‘Flora, are you listening?’ Bunny’s raised voice brought her attention back to him. ‘I said maybe there’s a spare key at the Abbey somewhere. Perhaps you could ask—’

  ‘The tenants are away, I don’t want to intrude without their permission.’ Blood rushed through her veins in a flash of heat at the thought of venturing over the threshold. She pulled Bunny through the gate by his sleeve. ‘Let’s get back. I could do with a cool drink, it’s so hot today.’

  ‘I was thinking about the landlord at the Red Kite,’ Bunny said suddenly. ‘Fate appears to have handed him a difficult hand, but even so, he seemed more worried about his reputation than the possibility people had been made ill from his beer.’

  ‘It wasn’t his, he bought it from Battledown Brewery,’ Flora reminded him.

  ‘I still think he should have been more concerned.

  ‘Losing customers for something that wasn’t his fault could have been a reason to seek revenge. He’s also Betsy’s uncle and at his own admission he wasn’t exactly enamoured of her behaviour. Is it possible he lost his temper and hurt her?’

  ‘You think her battered body lies behind the barrels in his cellar?’ Bunny waggled his fingers in mock menace in front of her face.

  ‘Ugh!’ She batted his hand away as a gruesome image jumped into her head. ‘No, I don’t. In fact no one believes she isn’t alive, well and living with a man. Perhaps my imagination is too vivid and I automatically link the word “disappeared” with “done to death”?’

  ‘There is that, Miss Amateur Sleuth. Which brings us back to your father. What’s the connection?’

  ‘Other than his nosing around might have angered someone, I don’t know.’ Flora sighed as the stables of Cleeve Abbey came into view. ‘We appear to have reached an impasse.’

  18

  ‘Death by Misadventure, which is what we expected.’ Bunny braced open the door of the mortuary and ushered Flora onto the short flight of steps at the entrance into the morning sunshine.

  ‘I shouldn’t have stood up in front of all those people, should I?’ Flora sighed. ‘I suppose I ought to be grateful the court officer didn’t throw me out.’ In an effort to force Dr Fairbrother to acknowledge Riordan Maguire couldn’t have been alone at the time of his death given the two sets of hoof prints, she had interrupted his testimony, and thus embarrassed herself.

  ‘Well, I thought you were wonderfully brave.’ Jocasta clicked open her parasol and twirled it onto her shoulder. ‘Don’t you, Uncle William?’

  ‘I thought the coroner was going to have a seizure.’ A smile tugged at William’s mouth.

  ‘He didn’t listen though did he?’ Flora descended the steps on Bunny’s arm. ‘Just insisted “any pertinent evidence should have been presented before now”.’ She mimicked the man’s superior tone, even down to his slight lisp.

  ‘Court officials, especially coroners, don’t like strong-minded ladies correcting them in public,’ Bunny said.

  ‘You’re so much the solicitor sometimes.’ Flora nudged him playfully. ‘Everything measured and formal with no margin for deeper emotions.’

  ‘I understand your frustration, my love, but emotions have no place in a court of law. That’s not to say I don’t care. I’ve had to learn to temper them with common sense to obtain the desired result.’

  ‘You even talk like a solicitor,’ Flora mumbled to herself, though without malice. It wasn’t Bunny’s fault he saw things differently. Not that her impulsive behaviour had made any difference. ‘Perhaps I was being over-optimistic to think something might have come to light at the last moment.’

  ‘Like what?’ William held open the carriage door for them. ‘That someone would come rushing in, yelling, “I saw it all, m’lud, and he was done to death by that man over there”?’

  ‘Uncle William!’ Jocasta chided. ‘Despite not wishing to sound like my mother, this is hardly the time for jokes.’

  ‘I’m sorry. I don’t mean to be insensitive.’ Though William’s grin showed no sign of apology. ‘I hate the way this whole business has dragged your spirits, Flora. I miss that sweet, funny girl who smiled so easily.’

  ‘I appreciate you both trying to make this easier for me.’ She hugged Bunny’s arm with both hands and turned a smile on William. ‘I don’t even mind your jokes, not really. Father wouldn’t have either.

  William flushed, looking more like an embarrassed schoolboy than a man in his early forties.

  ‘I thought I would melt in that room.’ Jocasta dabbed her face with a handkerchief. ‘You must be very uncomfortable in that black gown, Flora, it looks heavy.’

  Only half listening, Flora glanced over her friend’s shoulder to where a familiar face snagged her attention. Mrs Mountjoy leaned out of her carriage window, a hand on the sill as she spoke to a man on the roadside of the carriage; a middle-aged man in a brown tweed suit who nodded occasionally but added little to the conversation.

  Flora narrowed her eyes to bring them into focus and gasped. ‘Isn’t that Bracenose talking to Mrs Mountjoy? What are they doing here?’

  ‘So it is.’ Jocasta followed her gaze. ‘I don’t recall seeing either of them at the inquest.’

  ‘Neither did I,’ Flora mused, thoughtful as she watched the conversation escalate with arm gestures and jutted chins on both sides.

  ‘Mind you,’ Jocasta added, ‘she’s always asking Papa if Bracenose can perform some errand or another for her. I’m surprised Papa doesn’t ask her to contribute to his wages.’ She tugged at Flora’s arm. ‘Come on, William and Bunny are waiting.’

  ‘I’m coming.’ Flora glanced back but her view was blocked by a brewer’s dray that passed by on the road just as Graham McCallum stepped into her path.

  ‘Mrs Harrington.’ He removed his hat and sketched a polite bow. ‘Allow me to offer my condolences. I know you were hoping for a different outcome of the inquest.’

  Flora flinched, assuming he meant her unfortunate outburst, though his expression remained sympathetic.

  ‘Ah, I fear I might be held responsible for that.’ Bunny joined them. ‘McCallum knows more about horses than I do, thus I asked in what circumstances might a horse trample someone on the ground.’

  ‘Really?’ Flora kept her expression neutral, though she wished Bunny had told her he had discussed his theory with Mr McCallum.

  ‘Very much in alignment with yours, I imagine,’ McCallum replied. ‘A sudden sound could have frightened the animal. It stumbled and an inexperienced rider might have dropped the rein. Without guidance the horse would bolt. Not that I could say for certain it happened at all without examining those marks. It might be possible to match them to a specific horse.’

  ‘Other than Diabolous? We are talking about a different horse, Mr McCallum,’ Bunny added.

  ‘Well of course.’ He held both hands out in a gesture of surrender. ‘However the Coroner has delivered his verdict. All the speculation about how many horses and which it was will make no difference now.’

  ‘No, of course not,’ Flora said perfunctorily. The fact that there were more horses in Cheltenham than trees, made the task virtually impossible in any case. ‘Thank you anyway, Mr McCallum, for appearing as a witness at the inquest, I mean. It cannot have been easy for you being candid about the nature of your confrontation with my father.’

  ‘I told the simple truth, and Maguire had every right to ask me about a possible contamination at my brewery. Especially when you take the Manchester incident into consideration. However, I did take his questions personally, thus my reaction may have been overly harsh.’

  ‘That’s kind of you to say so, but I’m sure my father would
n’t have blamed you.’ Mrs Mountjoy’s carriage rumbled past them, though Flora’s quick glance revealed no sign of Bracenose. ‘I hope we haven’t made you miss your lift.’

  ‘I beg your pardon?’ A frown appeared between his brows which struck Flora as quite genuine. Unlike his smile, which didn’t reach his eyes.

  ‘Mrs Mountjoy has just left.’ Flora nodded to where the carriage turned a corner. ‘I assume you came to the inquest together?’

  ‘Um-no, we did not. I had no idea she planned to attend.’ He gave a curt inclination of his head, and replaced his hat. ‘Good day to you, and my condolences again.’

  ‘Why did you ask him that?’ Bunny asked, as he helped Flora up the step into the carriage. ‘You know he and Mrs Mountjoy no longer spend time together.’

  ‘Just testing, I suppose.’ She watched McCallum walk away. ‘They’re friendly enough for her to borrow his horses, so it occurred to me they might be pretending not to like each other.’

  ‘Which would imply her attentions to William are an act,’ Bunny lowered his voice as William stood mere feet away. ‘Which I don’t think is likely.’

  ‘I suppose you’re right. And as Mr McCallum said, the Coroner has given a verdict with no room for ambiguity. Perhaps I should give up.’ The second the words had left her she regretted them. How could she let Riordan Maguire down. If the situation was reversed he would never have merely shrugged his shoulders and moved on.

  ‘Did I hear you say Mrs Mountjoy borrowed a horse from Mr McCallum?’ Jocasta took the seat beside Flora, who slid into the far corner to make room.

  ‘That’s what he told me the other day.’ Flora adjusted her skirts. ‘Why?’

  ‘I could swear I heard her say at dinner the other night that she never rode?’

  Before Flora could give this statement some thought, Jocasta was speaking again.

  ‘It was a poor show for Mama and Papa not to attend the inquest. I think they should have been there.’

  ‘It’s not important.’ Flora chewed her bottom lip in an effort not to show she was hurt. She had always imagined she and her father were more to Lord and Lady Vaughn than employees. Jocasta’s reminders of their absence today though told her that they weren’t and only made her feel worse. ‘After all, there was no real reason for them to come. They’ve been very kind to me through this awful experience.’

  She propped her elbow on the window frame, the knuckles of one hand pressed lightly against her lips, as the carriage waited to pull into traffic. Her attention caught by the figure of Dr Fairbrother on the hospital steps in what looked to be a heated altercation with a young man.

  The stranger looked to be in his mid-twenties with black hair brushed back from an attractive, even-featured face. From that distance she couldn’t see the colour of his eyes but guessed they too would be dark. He stood with one foot on a higher step, a hand on his hip in a leisurely stance, revealing the scarlet lining of a biscuit-coloured suit. In contrast, Dr Fairbrother jutted his chin, his hands clenched at his fists. As she watched, the younger man threw his head back in a laugh, which appeared to incense Dr Fairbrother, who abruptly turned and strode toward a hansom parked on the road, his cheeks flushed a furious red.

  ‘Who’s that young man with Dr Fairbrother?’ Flora asked no one in particular.

  ‘That’s Reginald Meeks, the pharmacist,’ William replied from the seat beside her. ‘Nice young man and very knowledgeable. Fairbrother calls him a “damned pill grinder”, if you’ll pardon the expression. They’re renowned for their differences of opinion.’

  Flora’s last view of Mr Meeks was him shaking his head slowly at Dr Fairbrother’s retreating back, a wide smile on his face.

  *

  Despite his protests of reluctance to leave her alone after the inquest, Flora had insisted that Bunny enjoy some male company this afternoon and he had ventured out with William to a local hostelry to try their pies. Flora had come into the dining room, joining Lady Venetia and Jocasta for luncheon.

  ‘Where are Eddy and Lord Vaughn?’ she asked, as she took a seat.

  ‘Yes, where is Eddy, Mama?’ Jocasta gave the room a sweeping glance as if her brother might be hiding somewhere. ‘Not like him to miss a meal.’

  ‘I assume he’s off on the estate somewhere with your father.’ Lady Venetia picked at a dry bread roll. ‘They normally have a picnic luncheon sent out to wherever they plan to be.’

  ‘Papa is in Gloucester,’ Jocasta said. ‘He told us at breakfast, don’t you remember?’

  ‘Oh yes.’ Lady Venetia waved a distracted hand. ‘Then I assume he’s taken Eddy with him. In which case I don’t expect them back before tea.’

  Neither Lord Vaughn or Lady Venetia had thus far not made any reference to the inquest apart from a vague. ‘As we thought then,’ when Bunny conveyed the verdict, let alone offered anything by way of an excuse for their non-attendance. Or perhaps she was expecting too much. Lady Venetia had told them earlier they must stay at the Abbey for as long as they wished.

  She filled a water glass and passed it to Flora. ‘Incidentally, my dear, have you finalized all the arrangements for the funeral, or is there something I can do to help?’

  Flora hesitated. Seeing Reginald Meeks outside the coroner’s office earlier had crystallized an idea she had toyed with all the way home. A talk with the young man who had so angered Dr Fairbrother might reveal something interesting. ‘Actually, I need to make a final visit to the undertakers this afternoon. I should go and see the florists as well.’

  ‘You’re welcome to take the gig,’ Lady Vaughn said. ‘I doubt anyone needs it.’ Flora was about to decline, but was reluctant to get into an altercation about the unsuitability of her travelling by tram, so she merely smiled her thanks.

  ‘Mama,’ Jocasta shot Flora a ‘don’t interrupt me’ look before continuing, ‘what do you know about the cottage on the west side of the estate? The one behind the stables? Flora was out that way yesterday and recognized it.’

  Flora inclined her head in a silent reminder that they had agreed to tackle her parents separately.

  ‘I was going to ask Papa,’ Jocasta added as if she read Flora’s thoughts. ‘But he’s been so occupied with Eddy and the estate he kept fobbing me off.’

  ‘I don’t think I know which one you mean, dear. We have so many.’ Lady Venetia’s hand drifted to her neck where she fiddled with a chain of her necklace. ‘More salad, Flora?’

  ‘It’s a white-painted cottage with a red roof and a darling little porch.’ Jocasta took the dish from her mother and passed it to Flora. ‘Isn’t that how you described it?’

  ‘Yes, that’s right.’ Flora took a spoonful of lettuce and tomato she didn’t want. ‘Tom brought me back that way from Bailey Wood the other day.’

  ‘I know nothing about it, I’m afraid.’ Lady Venetia’s growing flush said otherwise. She had opted for clear soup for luncheon and strong coffee which indicated she was watching her weight.

  ‘I think you do, Mama,’ Jocasta persisted. ‘I’m certain Papa mentioned once that Maguire and his wife lived there when Flora was a small child.’

  ‘My darling, that was all so long ago.’ Lady Vaughn performed a mildly passable imitation of Hetty, blinking myopically, a finger held to her cheek. ‘I cannot be expected to recall everyone who has occupied the estate cottages during the last twenty years.’

  ‘Were you aware Flora has a recurring dream about that house? Quite a disturbing one actually, which began during her childhood. If you know something, I do think you ought to tell her.’

  Jocasta was evidently not going to let the subject go, for which Flora was grateful, although her gratitude vied with her reluctance to upset her hostess.

  ‘My dear Flora, you’ve never mentioned such a thing to me.’ Lady Venetia covered Flora’s hand with her own, then withdrew it quickly. ‘But then children have fertile imaginations. Lady Emerald had a similar problem when she was about ten that involved a rabbit, of all things, she—’
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br />   ‘Mama!’ Jocasta slapped the table, making Flora jump. ‘I would have thought you could have done better than revert to defective memory.’

  ‘I don’t know what you mean, Jocasta. Really I don’t.’ Lady Venetia’s mouth twitched and her hand went back to her neck.

  Jocasta opened her mouth again, about to ask her next question with some force but Flora gave a tiny shake of her head, forestalling her. Lady Venetia’s obvious distress didn’t seem worth the trouble, no matter how much Flora wanted the truth, leaving Jocasta to take her temper out on a slice of ham instead.

  A tense silence ensued for the rest of the meal, broken only by the click of cutlery on china and an occasional clearing of throats.

  ‘We shan’t be in for tea, Jocasta.’ Lady Vaughn stirred her coffee with a tiny silver spoon as delicate as her fingers. ‘Your father and I have tickets for a choral recital at the Winter Gardens being performed as part of the coronation celebrations.’

  ‘I hope you enjoy it, Mama,’ Jocasta’s voice was brittle.

  ‘I doubt it. Look at that sky, not a cloud to be seen.’ She laid down her spoon and stared through the window with a deep sigh. ‘The building is like a greenhouse and gets insufferably hot during the summer. The last time we went there I almost fainted.’

  ‘Why don’t you take a blanket and sit on the grass in Imperial Square. One can hear every note just as well from there.’

  ‘Jocasta, really!’ Lady Venetia’s chair screeched as it scraped across the floorboards. ‘I don’t know what poor Jeremy will do with you when you’re married. You have no social sense at all. Blanket on the grass indeed.’ She swept from the room, leaving an air of affront behind her.

  ‘I think you upset her,’ Flora said as the door closed with an ominous click.

  ‘Don’t be fooled, she couldn’t care less about blankets. She’s angry about my mentioning the cottage, although I doubt the truth is half as bad as our speculation.’